Jason and the Problem Child
by Asher J
Summary: On a family vacation to New York, Jason Everett meets a kid who just might need his help.
1. Chapter 1

_**JASON AND THE PROBLEM CHILD**_

A/N: The characters in this story--specifically the Everett family--are just as much my property as my wife's. What that means is, both of us came up with the characters. The BSC members, of course, are owned by Ann Martin. Just thought I'd clear that up.

**CHAPTER 1**

_**"A **__gathering of angels appeared above my head; they sang to me this song of love, and this is what they said; they said, 'Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me--'"_

That was the song that was playing on my clock-radio in my bedroom one summer afternoon in Stoneybrook, Connecticut, and I was singing right along as I packed my Adidas bag. My family, which consists of my mum, Steve, my stepdad, and Bebe, my eleven-year-old stepsister, were taking a trip to Manhattan for a couple of weeks to visit Aunt Amy, Mum's sister, Uncle Aaron, her husband, and their two daughters: Alex, who's Bebe's age, and Alissa, who's six and a half.

Who am I? I'm Jason Everett, I'm fifteen years old, and this fall, I'll be starting my freshman year at Stoneybrook High School. I have black hair, which I usually keep pulled back in a ponytail, green eyes, Michael Keaton-ish eyebrows, a shark's-tooth earring in my left ear, and a scar on my right cheekbone. I got that scar in a fight when I was ten. The kid I'd fought with hit me in the face with a two-by-four that had a little tiny nail sticking out of the end. It damn near tore my eye out, too, but missed my eye by an inch. I don't really mind having it anymore, though. In fact, I think it looks pretty cool.

Anyway, I live with my family in this brand-new apartment complex at the end of McLelland Road, which is where my good friend, Kristy Thomas, lives. Kristy is the president of a business called the Baby-sitters Club, and sometime after Stoneybrook Middle School's production of _Carnival, _they made me an associate member (I'll explain a little more about that later).

Well, I was rummaging around in my closet, looking for my favorite Rolling Stones jersey, and singing along with the radio, when I heard pounding on the door, and a voice shouting, "Jason! Hey, Jason!"

I immediately recognized the voice as Steve's, and rushed to turn the radio down before I opened the door. "Yes?" I asked. I could tell by the look on Steve's face that he wasn't in the best of moods.

"Jason, how many times do I have to tell you not to play your radio so loud?" he asked sternly. "And I'm not the only one. I've gotten quite a few complaints from some of the neighbors on this floor that you've been too noisy."

As soon as he said that, I felt like the world's biggest schmuck. You see, Steve happens to be the superintendent of the entire complex. That basically means he's responsible for keeping up with things like groundskeeping, maintenance, and he's trying to do a good job for the tenants. If he didn't hold up to his end of the bargain, he could get fired, and we'd no longer be able to live there.

"I'm sorry, Steve," I said. And believe me, I was. "I guess I didn't realize I was that loud. I was just lost in my own world there." Speaking of which, this wasn't the first time, as Steve pointed out. Another time, I was listening to my favorite Motorhead CD, and trying to sing like Lemmy, but I couldn't really do it very well, and from upstairs, I heard a pounding and a voice yelling, "Shut the hell up! What are you doing down there?"

"It's okay, son," Steve answered. "However, in the future, I'd really appreciate it if you played your music a little more softly, and so would the other tenants. _Capisce?"_

_"Capisce," _I agreed. (Yes, Steve is Italian.) "Well, at least I wasn't listening to William Hung!"

Steve laughed a little, shaking his head and rolling his eyes, then walked away, muttering to himself in Italian. The only times he ever does that are if he's really pissed off, or if he hears a really funny joke. I, for one, prefer to hear him do that when he's in a good mood.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_**N**_ow would be a good time to tell you about the Baby-sitters Club. Like I said before, Kristy is the president. She got the idea for the club about a couple of years ago when she saw that her mum was having trouble finding a sitter for her little brother, David Michael, or as Bebe and I call him, DM (he says he doesn't mind if we do that). The general idea behind the club is, as Kristy put it, "Why waste time calling all over town for a sitter when you can reach several of them at just one phone number?" And believe me, it's a brilliant idea.

Well, that being said, I should tell you that Kristy runs the BSC _very _professionally. She's very by-the-book, and believes in punctuality, organization, responsibility, and reliability, and absolutely will not tolerate lateness to meetings, or no-shows. Speaking of which, meetings are held on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from 5:30 to 6:00 in Claudia Kishi's bedroom.

Claud, besides being the BSC vice-president, is also my girlfriend, and she's a knockout. She also has her own phone, as well as her own number. This is so clients can reach us easily without making her family's phone bill skyrocket. Also, here are some other things I should mention about Claud: she's the wildest dresser I've ever seen, as well as a junk-food junkie, a Nancy Drew nut (neither of which her parents approve of, for some reason), and one hell of a good artist, as indicated by the portrait of her late grandmother, Mimi, which hangs on the wall over her bed. School, on the other hand, is not one of her strong points. Thanks to some tutoring, not to mention being sent back to seventh grade for a while, she was able to catch up and graduate from SMS with the rest of us.

Dawn Schafer and Mary Anne Spier are an alternate officer and the club secretary, respectively. They're best friends, not to mention stepsisters. In my opinion, you couldn't ask for a better secretary than Mary Anne. She's in charge of keeping the record book up-to-date, and even though that's an important job, I've never once seen her make a single mistake. I guess it kind of helps having the world's most super-organized and (I'm sorry) borderline anal-retentive father. It also helps to watch what you say around Mary Anne, because she cries over literally every little thing if you're not careful, whereas Kristy will look at you like she's going to tear your head off.

Okay, on to Dawn. She was born and raised in California (where she's currently visiting with her dad, her stepmum, and her brother, Jeff), and moved to Stoneybrook when she was twelve. Not too long after that, her real mum married Mary Anne's dad, and they all moved into Dawn's old 18th-century house, which, tragically, burned down. Thankfully, they were able to make the nearby barn into a house.

Anyway, Dawn is truly an individual. Aside from being a health nut, not to mention one of the most down-to-earth people I know, she also has the longest, blondest hair sine Farrah Fawcett, pale blue eyes, a killer smile, and a _gorgeous _tan. We were also fortunate enough to land the two romantic leads in _Carnival_, which was a blast. Finally, she's a member of the We Love Kids Club, a kind of California knock-off of the BSC, which was started by her childhood friend, Sunny Winslow.

New York native and mathematician, Stacey McGill, is the treasurer, which means she collects dues from the other BSC members on Mondays, and from what I'm told, that's their least favorite thing about the BSC, but without dues, we couldn't pay Claud's phone bill, Kristy's brother, Charlie, for gas money (her drives her to and from meetings), or new Kid-Kit supplies.

Aside from being the treasurer, several words come to mind in describing Stacey: pretty, sophisticated, and a survivor, due to the fact that she's a diabetic, which means no junk food of any kind. Period. She also has to stick to a diet, and keep track of her insulin shots, which, I can imagine, must really suck big-time. But she handles it pretty well. She's also dating Kristy's other brother, Sam. And forgive me for sounding prissy, but they really do make a cute couple.

If I had to pick the wisecracker of the bunch, I could tell you in two words: Abby Stevenson. Abby's another alternate officer, which means she fills in for anyone who has to miss a meeting. She and her twin sister, Anna, were born on Long Island (they lived in Old Woodbury; I lived in another part of there), and a few months ago, they celebrated their Bat Mitzvah. Whenever you're around Abby, you're pretty much guaranteed to spend the entire time rolling on the floor, laughing. But her life wasn't always giggles and jokes, though. You see, she and Anna were only nine when their father was killed in a car accident, and for a long time after that, she couldn't laugh, let alone smile. Thankfully, she never lost her sense of humor, because without that, she'd have missed out on a lot in her life. Also, as athletic as she is, it's so ironic that she has almost every kind of allergy known to man, but that never gets her down.

Mallory Pike and Jessi Ramsey are the best of friends, as well as our junior officers, which means they're not allowed to sit at night, unless they're sitting for their siblings. Speaking of siblings, Jessi has two--Becca, who just turned nine, and John Jr., or Squirt, who's two--and Mal has _seven! _There's ten-year-old triplets, Adam, Byron, and Jordan, nine-year-old Vanessa, almost-nine-year-old Nicky, seven-year-old Margo, and six-year-old Claire. Mal and Jessi are the oldest in their families, of course.

By the way, there's another big difference between the two, besides the fact that Jessi's black and Mal's white. Jessi is a great dancer, and wants to be a professional ballerina, and Mal loves to write, and hopes to someday write and illustrate children's books.

As I mentioned before, I'm an associate member, along with Logan Bruno, Mary Anne's boyfriend, and Shannon Kilbourne. That means that we take on jobs no one else can, and we're not required to attend meetings. Usually, I'm called to sit for Kristy's two little stepsiblings, Karen and Andrew Brewer, but only when they're at their mum's. There are two things that I can expect to happen over there: one, they run up and throw their arms around me, and two, they take turns sitting on my lap whenever we watch a movie. Karen even loves helping me whenever I fix dinner. Those two are, without a doubt, the cutest, sweetest, most well-behaved kids I've ever met.

Well, back to me. Since it was a Wednesday, I decided to go to the BSC meeting. I parked my motor scooter outside Claud's house on Bradford Court, and went inside. As usual, Kristy was in the director's chair and watching the clock. It was 5:21, so I was safe.

"Hi, Kristy," I said as I entered the room.

"Hi," she answered, and pretty cheerfully, I might add. As much of a stickler as she is, she still manages to have a smile on her face. "You're early."

That's when Claud came crawling out from under the bed with a bag of Gummi Worms clenched in her teeth. "I knew zheesh were undah hee!" whe said excitedly as she got up.

"What?" Kristy asked, trying not to laugh.

That's when Abby arrived. I could tell she heard that, because the first words out of her mouth were, "Ish Her Royaw Highneshezh mash luggazh!"

_"What?" _Kristy repeated, stifling a giggle.

"Her Royal Highness' matched luggage!" Abby repeated. In case you're wondering, they were quoting from _Spaceballs_, which happens to be one of Kristy's, and my, favorite movies.

"A-_hem! _I believe I said I knew these were under here!" Claud interjected, waving the Gummi Worms about. Amidst our laughter, we each accepted one from the bag.

Several minutes passed as the rest of the club arrived, and at 5:30 on the dot, the visor was placed on Kristy's head, the pencil was tucked behind her left ear, and the meeting was called in session.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_**"A**_ny club business?" Kristy asked, helping herself to another Gummi Worm.

"Well, I'm just glad to finally be out of middle school, to tell you the truth," Claud spoke up, her mouth full of Ranch Pringles.

"Amen to that, girl!" Stacey grinned as she and Claud high-fived. That's when the phone rang. By the way, I should mention that Claud now has a speakerphone. She got it from her aunt and uncle last Christmas. You see, whenever a client calls with a sitting job, it's supposed to be offered to everyone else first. That's _the _rule in the club, and I'm told that it's been forgotten quite a bit. Enter the speakerphone, and I'll give you three guesses whose idea it was. Not only do we remember the job-offering rule, but it also saves us the trouble of having to call the client back to let them know who can do it.

"Baby-sitters Club," Claud answered as she pressed the button.

"Hi, it's Watson," he said. "Listen, Elizabeth and I are going to a Mexican dinner and silent auction this coming Tuesday, and we need a sitter for David Michael and Emily. Are any of you going to be available that day?"

"Did you ask Charlie, Sam, or Nannie?" Kristy asked.

"Charlie's umpiring a Little League game, Sam's working, and Nannie's got a bowling tournament," Watson answered.

"Right," Kristy said, getting out the record book and passing it to Mary Anne, who was just putting on her reading glasses. "Okay, Mary Anne, who's free?"

Mary Anne opened the book and flipped to the calendar page. "Let's see, Tuesday," she said. "Here we are: Jessi, ballet class; Mal, sitting for her siblings; Claud, art class; Stacey, bike-riding with Charlotte Johanssen; Shannon, sitting for the Papadakises; Logan and I, date; and Jason, as you mentioned at last week's meeting, you'll be out of town that day. That leaves Kristy and Abby."

Abby reached under Claud's mattress and fished out a little Ziploc bag of jellybeans, one of which was green. "Whoever draws the green jellybean sits at Kristy's house," she said as she opened it. Then she and Kristy closed their eyes and reached into the bag. After a few seconds, they each took out a jellybean. "Purple. I'm at your house, Mal." (By the way, whenever we're sitting at Mal's house, they require two sitters, since there are a lot of kids.)

"Green," Kristy said. "I guess I'm doing it, Watson."

"Good deal. Thanks a lot, Kristy."

"No problem," Kristy answered, and she hung up the phone.

"God, I am _sooo _glad we have that speakerphone," Claud sighed as she laid back on her bed and put a pillow under her leg to prop it up. She once told me that she broke her leg when she was baby-sitting for a girl that the BSC thought was an incurable practical joker. The girl, Betsy Sobak, had convinced Claud to sit on this old swing, and Claud ended up breaking her leg and almost quitting the BSC. Claud says her leg hurts only when it's going to rain. "Before this came along, we'd argue over jobs nonstop."

"Yeah," Stacey agreed. "If Dice had heard us, I guarantee you, he would've washed our mouths out with Cashmere Bouquet."

That was when Abby stood up, shot her right hand up into the air, and shouted, "_OH!", _just like Dice. She even reached her arm behind the back of her head and pretended to smoke the candy cigarette she was holding.

After we finished laughing, Kristy stood up and said, "Before we continue, I have an announcement to make."

"Lemme guess, you've cured Jackie of being accident-prone," Mal said. Jackie Rodowsky is one of the BSC's favorite charges, even though he's a klutz with a capital K. In fact, he's affectionately known in our circle as the Walking Disaster, but we love him anyway.

"Don't I wish," Kristy laughed. "But seriously, though, Unity Insurance, the company Watson works for, is setting up a branch of offices in--get this--Sydney, Australia!"

"Get out!" Stacey exclaimed.

"But that's not all," Kristy continued. "Watson has arranged it so the whole family can go, and here's the best part: he says I can take _each..._and _every...one...of...YOU!"_

Instantaneously, the entire room was filled with the loudest, shrillest, happiest screams that only a teenage girl can do. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised my eardrums didn't blow up.

"So, when are you leaving?" I asekd as soon as they calmed down.

"A week from Saturday," Kristy said. "Watson already took care of our plane tickets."

"That's great," I said. "I hope you have a great trip. And as you already know, I'm leaving for Manhattan first thing tomorrow morning."

"Well, we'll send you a postcard," Mary Anne said. To no one's surprise, she was starting to get a little misty-eyed. That's Mary Anne for you.

"Thanks, girls," I smiled. "I'll really miss you."

"We'll miss you, too, Jason," Claud said, snuggling up beside me on the bed. "I know _I _will."

"Thanks, love," I said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kristy looking fondly at me. She was evidently recalling the day I consoled Karen after Andrew's bike accident. I guess one of the reasons she wanted me to be in the club was when she saw how I'd let wiser and cooler heads prevail. Also, Karen had told her that I'd called her "love" when I was helping her calm down.

By then, the clock on the desk read 6:00, and the meeting broke up. We all left, wishing each other the best, promising to keep in touch, that sort of the thing. The whole time, Mary Anne was crying like a baby, no pun intended.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_**T**_he next morning after breakfast, my family and I pulled out of the parking lot and were on our way to Manhattan. As we left Stoneybrook, I thought about the first time Mum and I came to America. I was four years old at the time, and moving away from Granny, Mum's mother, was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I'm just glad Aunt Amy and Uncle Aaron let us stay with them until we found a place of our own. Alex was just a baby then, and I'll never forget how thankful I was when I first saw her. It really made being here so much easier for me.

I was so wrapped up in reminiscing and listening to Queen on my iPod that I almost didn't hear Steve say, "Well, here we are." _Here, _by the way, was Aunt Amy and Uncle Aaron's brownstone. It looked the same way it did when I was four, and there, on the front steps, was Aunt Amy. She had that huge grin of hers that reminded me so much of Granny.

"Hi, Sis!" Mum cried excitedly as she got out of the car, then ran up to hug her sister. Bebe and I did the same as soon as we finished stretching our legs.

"Hi, Jason! Hi, Bebe!" a high, squeaky voice cried. That had to be Alissa, and sure enough, she and Alex came bounding out of the house and threw their arms around us. They're really nice girls, but they're as different as can be. For example, Alex has dark curly hair, greenish-brown eyes, and _really _dark skin (Uncle Aaron's black, by the way). She's also a sports nut, like Kristy. Alissa, on the other hand, has platinum-blond hair, like her mum, brown eyes, and, like Mum, Aunt Amy, and I, fair skin. She's also into sports, mostly gymnastics. However, she's very shy and quiet around people she doesn't know, unlike Alex, who's loud, outspoken, and outgoing. They're so much like Kristy and Mary Anne, it's almost scary. They only thing they have in common is that neither of them have so much as a hint of an accent at all.

"How have you been?" Aunt Amy asked.

"Oh, pretty good," Mum answered. "Oh, did you get that copy of the _Carnival _video we sent you?"

"Yeah!" Alex piped up. "Jason, you guys were fantastic! I wish we could've seen it, but I had a softball game that weekend."

"Oh, man, they wiped the field with the other team!" Alissa added.

Whilst everyone was chattering away, I happened to look to my right, and see a boy, probably around nine or ten years old, riding his bike down the sidewalk. He had reddish-brown hair, like the Pikes, piercing blue yes, and a _lot _of freckles. But what really got to me was the look on his face. I've never seen anyone with such a blank, oblivious expression in my life. And the bright, sunny weather we were having really made this kid's face stick out like a sore thumb.

Still, I decided to try to be as friendly as I could. I waved to him, but the boy hardly even acknowledged my presence. All he did was glance up at me, and then he continued on his way, like I wasn't even there.

"Did you see that kid?" I asked my cousins.

"Yeah," Alex answered. That was when I noticed that she had kind of an uneasy look on her face. "That was Doug Mahoney. If I were you, I'd stay away from him."

"Why?" Bebe asked.

"People say he's bad news," Alissa said, almost as nervous as her sister. "They say they've seen him do things, like steal stuff, scratch up parked cars, pick fights, wreck people's property, look up ladies' dresses, and pick on little kids and animals."

Uh-oh. I didn't like the sound of this, not one bit. "Look," I said, kneeling down to Alissa's level. "Are you two sure about this? Did either of you ever see him do any of this?"

Alissa shook her head. "Mommy and Daddy told us that we're not allowed to go anywhere near him. And some of the neighbors told us that, too."

"Did he try to start any trouble with either of you?" I asked.

Alex nodded. "About a week ago at the playground, he tripped Alissa while she was playing hopscotch," she told me. I could tell she was trying her hardest to keep her tone of voice down. "And then he snatched her Ariel barrette right out of her hair."

"Oh, no," Bebe murmured. "Did you tell your mommy or daddy?"

"We both did," Alex said, putting a protective hand on Alissa's shoulder. "Daddy told the playground director, and they made him give her back the barrette and say he was sorry."

"Did he?" Bebe asked.

"Give her back the barrette, yes; apologize, no," Alex ansewered, and boy, was she mad. By then, I could see tears gathering in Alissa's eyes. Alex handed her a Kleenex from her shorts pocket as she continued, "He just ran away."

This was serious. After hearing what Alex and Alissa had to say, I wasn't at all sure if I'd want to meet this kid face-to-face.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

_**T**_he next afternoon over lunch, Uncle Aaron said, "Since neither of us have to work today, why don't we spend the afternoon at the Y?" (By the way, I should mention that Uncle Aaron is one of the top executives at Bloomingdale's, and Aunt Amy is an interpreter at the UN.)

"Sounds great," I said.

"Okay, who wants to do what?" Aunt Amy asked.

"Swimming!" Alissa cried.

"Aerobics!" Bebe and Alex added at the same time.

"Weight room," I said. I could tell Steve also had the same idea.

"Great," Uncle Aaron grinned. "Let's go."

Within minutes, we'd arrived at the Y. Mum, Bebe, and Alex went to the aerobics room, Aunt Amy, Uncle Aaron, and Alissa went to the pool, and Steve and I went to the weight room.

"Jason, do you really have to wear that shirt?" Steve asked.

"What's wrong with it?" I asked. I was wearing a skin-tight navy blue T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and on the front, there was a picture of Kurt Russell's character in _Escape from New York_ with the words "SNAKE PLISSKEN FOR PRESIDENT" underneath it. Personally, I didn't see what the big deal was about my shirt. I always wore it when I worked out, and it was also my favorite one. Now, if Mary Anne had asked me about it, that would've made more sense. But what was Steve's problem?

"I don't know, Jason, I'm just concerned that it'll make people think you're some kind of outlaw or something," Steve answered.

"Well, at least I'm not wearing a My Little Pony T-shirt," I pointed out, in my best Snake impression. Naturally, Steve got a good laugh. If there's one thing the two of us have in common, it's that we can make each other laugh. (Oh, I hate to get off the subject here, but another reason why I like that particular shirt is because _Escape from New York _is one of my favorite movies.)

Well, we got downstairs to the weight room, which was practically jam-packed with big, muscular guys who looked like fugitives from the NFL or the Mr. Universe contest. Even though I have a pretty good build, I still felt like the smallest one there, mostly because of my age and height, which is currently 5' 8". And the smell that was in that room...well, let's just say that it was time to change the Glade Plug-in, if there even was one. At least the windows were open.

After about a half-hour or so, I took a drink from my Propel bottle, and told Steve, "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

"Okay," Steve said as he reached for the 45-lb. free weights and started pumping.

I guess I really needed to go, because I got there faster than I usually do. Anyway, after I flushed the urinal, I went to wash my hands when I heard one of the stall doors slam behind me. And it was pretty damn loud, too. I jumped about a foot and a half, and turned around. There, right in front of me, was that kid from yesterday.

Doug Mahoney.

"What are you lookin' at?" he barked. His voice was a full octave higher than mine, but he still sounded like a pretty tough customer.

"I, uh...nothin'," I stammered. What was I supposed to say?

"That's what I thought," he said. That's when I noticed how thick his accent was, even thicker than mine. I'm guessing that he was from the Bronx. "Now, are you gonna move aside, or do I have to do it for you?"

"All right, I'm going," I answered hastily. I knew this kid was so much smaller than me, but he carried himself like someone twice my size. At any rate, I moved out of his way so he could wash his hands.

_Man, what's with him? _I thought as I ran my hands under the dryer. That's when I realized I'd left my Propel by the sink, but just as I turned to get it, I saw him chugging down what was left of it. "Hey!" I exclaimed. I reached out to try and grab it from him, but quicker than I could even blink my eyes, he spun around, cocked back his arm, and winged that bottle right at my head. He missed by a mile, but just the same, I just stared at him in total shock. To this day, I can still feel my ears ringing from the sound of that bottle striking the wall and clattering to the linoleum floor.

"What the bloody hell--" I started to shout, but the kid shoved right past me and was out of that bathroom in no time flat. I stood there for a moment, absolutely dumbstruck, and wondering what his problem was. Furtermore, I wasn't sure I even wanted to find out.

I made my way back to the weight room shortly thereafter, and ran into Steve. I guess he noticed the look of disbelief on my face, because he asked, "Jason? What's wrong?"

"Steve, you will never believe what just happened when I was in there," I said. "You remember that kid that came by the house on his bike yesterday?"

"The one with the red hair and freckles?"

"Aye. Well, I ran into him in the bathroom, and he started drinking my Propel, so I tried to take it from him, and he threw it at me!" I told him. "He was also aiming for my head, too! I'm just glad he has such terrible aim."

If Steve's jaw hung any lower, he literally would've been stepping on it. "Are you dead serious?" he asked in amazement.

I nodded. "And you should've seen the way he looked at me. He almost made Kristy Thomas look like Florence Nightingale!"

"Damn!" Steve exclaimed. "Sounds like one nasty kid, huh?"

"I'll say," I agreed. "I'll go report this straightaway!"

"Okay," Steve said, and he headed for the showers.

I probably had no reason to look over my shoulder and both sides of me before going to the main desk. I mean, this was a kid for crying out loud! A nine, probably ten-year-old _kid! _And here I was, looking around like he was some crazy musclehead biker that wanted to knock me into next week. Anyway, after I was sure the coast was clear, I went up to the desk, and I'm pretty sure I heard someone whisper, "Wonder what's wrong with that boy?"

If I wasn't too busy telling the guy behind the desk what had happened, I would've found whoever said that and torn him a new one. But I had more than enough things to worry about.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

_**L**_ater that evening, the eight of us went to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner. While we were waiting for our food, I was remembering a story that Stacey had told me about when Kristy, Claud, Mary Anne, and Dawn had come to New York for a visit, which is something Stacey says she wishes she could forget. You see, Stacey had taken them to this particular restaurant for their first meal in the big city, and not only had they not gotten along with Stacey's old friends, namely Laine Cummings (whom Stacey doesn't talk about anymore, because they had a big falling-out), but Kristy had also managed to find a way to mispronounce "fliet mignon". Luckily, the waitress, God bless her, knew what Kristy meant. At any rate, I've been told that the trip to New York was one of the BSC's less-than-great experiences, and they've asked me on several occasions not to bring it up, which I haven't. Hell, I don't even say "filet mignon" in their presence! The only upside of it (yes, there _was _an upside, folks) was that they'd gotten to baby-sit for all the kids in Stacey's old building whilst their parents were at a meeting.

Unfortunately, there was no way I could ever think about that story, because after the waiter served us, I was too busy telling my family about what had happened at the Y, and just like I'd done that afternoon when I went up to the main desk, I made damn sure to include every detail, right up to when Doug threw my Propel bottle at me. (For some reason, I didn't think to tell them that he had such lousy aim.) When I finished talking, I saw that all of them had different reactions to what I'd said: Mum and Bebe were as surprised as I'd been, Steve was now angry that I'd been put in that position, my aunt and uncle were horrified, and my cousins were looking at me with that "We told you so" look on their faces. Normally, I really hate it when people give me that look, but considering what I'd just been through, I couldn't really blame them. I mean, they were the ones who told me what a bad kid Doug was, and look what happened. Just thinking about it made me feel incredibly stupid.

"Well," Mum said briskly. "I certainly hope you went directly to one of the instructors about this."

I nodded. "You know what? There's something about this kid that doesn't make any sense to me. Remember when he passed by the house on his bike yesterday? He was just like a robot with the way he was staring into space and all. I waved to him, but he just ignored me. And today--" I shook my head. "God, it was like Jekyll and Hyde with him! He was like a completely different person!"

"Jason, wake up," Alex said incredulously. "He's the devil-boy!"

That's when Uncle Aaron spoke up. "You know," he said. "I think this boy might have a problem."

"You mean, he _is _a problem, Daddy," Alex snapped. "And I know just how to solve it, too." With that, she smacked her right fist into her palm so hard and so fast that it almost sounded like a whip. I thought about trying to say something to her, but the look in her eyes convinced me to keep my mouth shut.

_"Alex," _Aunt Amy warned. Sulking, Alex picked up her fork and started eating her fettucini Alfredo. She was still pretty miffed, because she was just scarfing that pasta down like it was her last meal before the execution.

"What I'm getting at here," Uncle Aaron continued, "is that there may be a reason why he acts the way he does. I recently read somewhere that a lot of kids who act out like this are victims of child abuse, both physical and sexual, and they feel like nobody knows what they're going through, or even cares, for that matter, so they just take it out on anyone who happens to be around them. But worst of all, they either knew they need help, but feel so inadequate in terms of seeking it, or they're completely in denial. They either claim the abuse never happened, make excuses or lie for the abuser, or completely shut down when asked about it."

Upon hearing this, all of us kids were totally caught off-guard. I don't think any of us were expecting to hear this, or even suspected that perhaps, just possibly, this was the real reason why Doug was behaving this way. Plus, I always thought that abused kids were either overly sensitive or just afraid of people in general. It never occured to me that they could physically lash out at someone the way Doug had lashed out at me. Shows how much I know, huh?

It took us a while to start the ball rolling again, and I opened my mouth to say something, but Alissa beat me to it. "So, what are we going to do about it?" she wanted to know. I think we all had that question on our minds.

"Well, first of all, you kids can try being nice to him," Uncle Aaron suggested, and when he said that, I could tell that he was intently looking at Alex. "That way, he wouldn't feel like nobody understood or cared about him. Also, whatever you do, you _absolutely cannot under any circumstances, _ask him anything about what goes on at his house or during his day, because not only is it none of our business, but it'll also make him feel even worse. Furthermore, abuse of any kind is a very serious accusation, and more often than not, it's not easy to prove. So, as a favor to all of us, you are not to say anything to him about it, unless he brings it up, which he probably won't. Okay?"

We all agreed, even though we susptected that abuse was the reason that Doug was the way he was. But like Uncle Aaron said, it's very hard to prove, and there was always the very remote possibility, however unlikely, that it wasn't true. And if it wasn't, then where would we go from there?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Before you read this next chapter, I have to warn you that what you're about to read may upset, disgust, or even scare you. If I've caused any negative feelings for any of you who are reading this, I am truly, truly sorry.

**CHAPTER 7**

_**W**_hen we got home, the very first thing we noticed was this unbelieveably rancid smell. It was wafting through the van's open windows. I had no idea what it was, but it really made me sick. I think all of us felt that way.

"Oh, _man, _what reeks?" Bebe moaned. From the look on her face, she looked like she was seconds away from losing her cod platter.

"Well, I know for a fact that it wasn't me, so don't even think about giving me any Beano," Alex quipped. Predictably, no one was laughing. Even if we didn't smell something so horrible, I still doubt that any of us would've found that funny.

As soon as we got out of the van, we were greeted with a truly revolting sight. On the front of the house, all of the windows and the front door were smeared with feta cheese, curdled milk, and compost; there were big piles of dog crap all over the porch and steps, and the porch swing was dripping wet with vinegar, piss, and beer.

_"What the hell is this!" _Uncle Aaron exploded at the top of his lungs. And I will wager you money that you could've heard him all the way from SoHo. He was that loud. But that wasn't the only thing that shocked me. What shocked me was the fact that for as long as I can remember, this was the first time I'd ever heard him swear. Steve, on the other hand, can make the Osbournes sound like a bunch of nuns when he wants to, especially when he's not grumbling in Italian, so hearing him swear didn't faze me at all.

"I'm calling the police," Aunt Amy announced as she took her cell phone out of her purse. The rest of us weren't about to walk through that mess just to get into the house, so we went around the back. The gate was locked, so whilst Uncle Aaron worked on unlocking it, we figured that at least the inside was safe.

And boy, was the joke on us.

The first thing we noticed, as we cut through the backyard, was that the kitchen window was ajar, and that stopped us dead in our tracks. "I'm not going in there," Alissa declared. She sounded absolutely terrified, and with good reason. What if the perp was inside, waiting for us? Plus, I remembered this one time in second grade when a homicide detective from the NYPD came to talk to our class for National Safety Week at school. One of the things he told us was that if you come home and see a window broken or open a bit, don't go into the house. Call the cops immediately. So why was Steve doing what he was doing then?

I guess he knew the cops were on the way, and he also must have wanted to make sure nobody was in the house, because I looked over my shoulder and saw him walk over to the toolshed and pick up Alex's baseball bat. Then, motioning for me to follow him, he very slowly approached the window. "Hold this," he commanded, handing me the bat. He opened the window the rest of the way and eased his way inside. I was right behind him.

Much to our surprise, the kitchen looked as neat as a pin. "Maybe somebody broke in to clean the place up," I suggested, only half-joking, and I stress "half". (By the way, I'm one of those people who tend to make jokes when I'm really scared. Mum once told me that's something else I got from my real dad.)

"Shaddap," Steve snapped dryly as we made our way toward the living room, which also looked untouched, but just the same, we looked around to see if there was someone hiding somewhere. And if so, the first obstacle in his path would be a big, mean-looking 6' 4" Italian Long Islander with a Louisville Slugger in his hands. Bat or no bat, no burglar in his right mind would want to go up against Steve.

I hurried to the fireplace and grabbed a poker. As I made my way to the stairs, I happened to look in the dining room. "Oh, my God," I gasped as I dropped the poker. Steve heard me, and was beside me in a heartbeat. When he saw what I did, I can quite honestly say that his eyes were almost as big as silver dollars.

Right in front of us, lined up on the front end of the dining room table, was Alex and Alissa's Bratz doll collection. They were all half-undressed with big chunks of their hair either burned, cut off, or torn out, they were doused in red paint, and some were either dismembered, slashed up, burned, or had screws inserted into their eyes, heads, legs, and privates. And there was also a hole kicked in the wall next to the china cabinet, which was now on its side. As if that mess on the front porch wasn't bloody disgusting enough!

At that moment, we heard a siren outside. I looked out the window to see a police cruiser pulling up. "Jason, could you let the cops in, please?" Steve asked calmly, but his jaw was tightly clenched, his eyes were blazing, and his right hand was trembling from gripping the bat so tightly. I immediately hauled ass back into the kitchen to do what I was told. At least Steve had enough sense to put the bat down before following me.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

_**B**_ebe and I stayed in the kitchen with our cousins whilst our parents talked to the police. I heard some of the conversation, but I wasn't paying that much attention to it, for two reasons: one, they were talking in the living room, and two, I was already preoccupied with trying to calm Alissa, who was curled up in my lap with her head on my shoulder and sucking her thumb. Alex was standing near the icebox with her back against the wall, and clearly trying not explode in a fit of rage in front of her sister, and Bebe was sitting at the table, shaking her head in disbelief and pretty much avoiding all eye contact.

A few minutes later, we heard them thanking the cops and showing them out. "Watch your step," Steve advised. Then the front door closed, and I looked up to see the four adults standing in front of the table. They were still disgusted and furious, but a little calmer than before. I think I might have seen a little sympathy in their faces.

For a moment, none of them said a word. Alex finally found her voice, and just as I'd thought, the first words out of her mouth really showed just how upset she was.

"I...am going...to kill...that...scum-sucking little weasel," she growled through clenched teeth, her voice rising on every word. (See what I mean when I said she reminded me of Kristy?) "The next time I see him, what I'll do to him will make what he did to our dolls look like an episode of _Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood."_

"Alexandra Jane Lennon!" Uncle Aaron exclaimed in horror. "I don't _ever _want to hear you speak that way in this house again, young lady!"

"Hey! It wasn't _your _doll collection that got trashed!" she screamed. She was also close to tears. "Did you see what he did to them, and especially the one I bought with my birthday money? You know, the one dressed like Queen Amidala! I'd been waiting months for that one! And after all this, you're telling me how I can and can't talk in this house!" Then she whirled around and pounded the front of the icebox with her fist.

Mum cautiously approached Alex, who threw her arms around her, sobbing uncontrollably. Needless to say, that was all it took for Alissa to start. I hadn't heard either of them cry this much since Granny passed away.

"Aunt Diann," Alex bawled as she clung to Mum like she was being sucked into a black hole.

Uncle Aaron went up behind her, stroking her hair and talking to her in a low, soothing voice, just like Mum had done when I was in the hospital after that fight I'd gotten into after school.

"Don't let that bad kid hurt us, Jason," Alissa sobbed as she clung to me. I held Alissa in my arms and rocked her back and forth, trying to get her to take some deep breaths, which, for her, was easier said than done. This poor girl was a wreck.

"Shh...nobody's going to hurt you, Alissa," I said gently as I rocked her. "Either of you. I promise."

After the girls calmed down a little, Steve cleared his throat and said, "Well, gang, I suggest we all get to work and clean the front porch up. Aaron, where do you keep the cleaning supplies?"

"They're in the laundry room," my uncle answered. Within minutes, they both returned with buckets, sponges, cloths, rubber gloves, cleanser, and bleach. "Okay, let's go."

"Sure," Alex grumbled. "If we start now, and work through the night, it should take us two years, tops."

"Mommy?" Alissa spoke up. "I don't want to stay here tonight. What if he comes back?"

"He won't," Aunt Amy reassured her. "The police said that there'll be an officer outside to watch over the place, and to leave all the lights on."

"But, how will we sleep?"

"I think they mean just the downstairs lights, Alissa," Bebe said.

"Oh."

"I'll get Alissa ready for bed now," Mum said, and she led my little cousin upstairs. As the rest of us got busy cleaning up the porch, I wondered how the hell any of us would get any sleep tonight, after what we'd just seen.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

_**M**_iraculously, all of us got a fairly decent night's sleep, despite what we'd been through. However, I'm sorry to say that the next morning, I could tell that my cousins were still reeling from seeing their beloved dolls destroyed in such a gruesome manner, and that they also wouldn't feel any sense of closure until this was settled once and for all.

When I first joined the BSC, one of the things Kristy had told me was that the kids we sat for relied on us for all kinds of things, namely helping them feel safe and secure, and out of all the things that she'd said made a good baby-sitter, she said that was the most important thing of all. After seeing what happened the night before, those words really hit home. I felt as if I owed it to my aunt, uncle, and cousins to watch out for them, and also find whoever was responsible for this.

"No, absolutely not, Jason," Uncle Aaron said adamantly to my solution, which was this: I knew deep down that Doug was the one who'd vandalized the house. I mean, the pieces all fit like a puzzle. There was the first day we arrived in New York, which was when he'd ridden down the street on his bike and totally ignored me, there was that scene in the men's room at the Y, and to top it all off, there was the house getting ransacked. My plan was to go directly to the police and tell them everything I knew. But, for some reason, Steve wanted me to stay out of the entire affair altogether.

I couldn't believe my ears. "Come on, guys!" I protested, slamming my fist down on the kitchen table and rattling the little salt and pepper shakers that looked like those guards at the Tower of London. I still can't believe neither of them fell over. "I have to do this! Don't you want the girls to be safe?" As soon as I said that, I remembered the Bon Jovi concert I'd gone to with Steve, my friend, Luke, and Luke's dad, on my eighth birthday. As I'd laid in bed that night after having gotten into that mess in the men's room at Madison Square Garden, I heard Mum and Steve having a similar conversation.

"Yes, but here's the problem," Steve said, setting his coffee down. "First of all, I really appreciate you for going out of your way to help your cousins. I'd do the exact same thing if I were you, but there's also the very slightest chance that this kid had nothing to do with last night. Even if it turns out that he _did _do it, he'd most likely deny it, no matter what. And do you remember what we'd talked about at dinner?"

I nodded. "We agreed that he was being abused," I said.

"I said that he _might _be abused," my uncle corrected me. I could tell by his tone of voice that I was trying his patience, as well as Steve's. I didn't want to do that, but I had to stick to my guns.

"What your uncle and I are trying to tell you here, Jason," Steve continued, "is that if you go to the cops and tell them this, not only could Doug either deny that he was here or do something even worse, but if it turns out that he's not from an abusive home, we can damn near guarantee you that his parents will first come after the cops, and then they _will _come after us. So, unless you want us facing a lawsuit, effective immediately, you are under strict orders from both of us, your aunt, and your mother to leave this alone. Are we clear?"

The entire time Steve was talking, I couldn't help remembering my first day at Stoneybrook Middle School. You see, I'd been sitting with Kristy and some of her friends at lunch when some greaser-looking kid started shooting his mouth off at them, and when I got up and told him to back off, he started in on me, and that soon led to me slamming this asshole against the wall, and I was just about to deck him when Kristy grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back in an effort to stop me from getting into a fight. I still remember seeing Mr. Taylor, the principal, looking at me in disgust as he broke it up. And worse than all that, Kristy's stepdad, Watson, had forbade her from seeing, or being around, me again. The last thing I wanted to happen was to relive that ordeal for a second time.

"Okay," I answered, defeated. I felt like my entire talk with them was nothing but a big waste of their time, as well as my own. "I hear you."

"Good," Steve said. "We know you, and we know we can trust you to do the right thing. It'll be all right, son."

With my head hanging, I got up from the table and slunk out of the kitchen. I know both of them knew what they were talking about, but in the meantime, I couldn't shake my gut-feeling that not only was Doug _in _trouble, as well as _causing _it, but by keeping quiet about it, we were only helping it happen again, whatever _it _was.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

_**"T**_hey _what!" _Alex exclaimed later that day. The four of us were in Alex and Alissa's room, talking about what Steve and Uncle Aaron had just told me.

"I said, Steve and Uncle Aaron told me to stay out of it," I answered. I couldn't believe it myself. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that leaving it alone was a mistake.

"But that's crazy!" Alex cried. "It's perfectly obvious that Doug did it. Remember when I told you about what happened at the playground? And let's not forget how he almost took your head off at the Y yesterday!"

"I know that, Alex," I said. "And I couldn't agree with you more, but the fact still remains that what Steve and your dad say goes. If they say to leave it alone, leave it alone."

"Well, _I _don't," Bebe spoke up. She'd hardly said two words throughout our entire conversation, so when she finally broke her silence, the rest of us were a bit startled.

"You don't what, Bebe?" Alissa asked.

"I don't say leave it alone," Bebe answered. "Also, I couldn't care less what Daddy and Uncle Aaron say. I agree with Alex about going to the police. If we don't, this kid could get into serious trouble."

"But how do we do that without letting our parents find out?" Alissa asked worriedly.

"Simple," Bebe said. "We just tell them that we're going out for a walk, and as soon as we get to the end of the block, we catch the first cab that pulls up, and go down to the police station."

"Frickin' A!" Alex agreed ecstatically as she and Bebe high-fived.

I hated to be a party pooper, but I had to interject. "Now, wait just a minute," I said firmly. "There is no way on earth that you girls will ever be able to pull this off. Do you have any idea of how many kids get kidnapped right off the sidewalk each day? And in broad daylight? Because if you did, you'd die of shock. And if you try this, that's exactly what'll happen to you."

"Not unless you come with us," Alex pointed out.

"Oh, no," I said sharply. I knew Alex was still upset over last night, and with good reason, but this was too much. Besides, our parents weren't about to let us get involved with this in any way, and that their word was law. "I'll get it even worse than I would if I went by myself, and I am not going to let that happen. Furthermore, if I go with you, and one of you gets hurt, guess who'll get blamed? Me, that's who. So, forget it!"

Right then and there, I was wishing I hadn't said that, because as soon as I did, those three girls just stared at me in shocked silence. They were clearly upset that I'd refused to help them sneak out, and lie to our parents, but Alex was looking at me so angrily it almost made the hair on my neck stand up.

"I cannot believe you, Jason Everett," she snapped. "I just can't believe you're not willing to help us. Didn't we already tell you what that jerk did to us _and _in our neighborhood? Yes, you're right, we could get grounded for this, but unless we do something, _anything, _well, next time Doug comes after one of us, or one of our friends, and he will, don't say we didn't warn you."

That did it. I was stuck, and Alex wasn't going to back down until I admitted that she was right. In that moment, out of my mouth came perhaps the absolute stupidest words I'd ever said in my life: "Oh, all right. Fine. Let's do it."

"That's what I thought," Alex said, giving me the "we told you so" look.

"Wait a minute," Bebe interrupted. "I just thought of something. Isn't it illegal to have four people in the backseat of a cab?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Alex remembered. Then she turned to her sister and said apologetically, "I'm sorry, Alissa, but I'm afraid you can't come with us."

"That's okay," Alissa said. "I'm going over to Janelle's house in a few minutes anyway."

"Good deal," Alex nodded, patting Alissa's shoulder. If you ask me, I think another reason Alex didn't want Alissa to come with us was because she wanted her to be safe. At the same time, I highly doubted that Alissa would've wanted to come with us anyway.

I also knew that by telling the girls what Steve and Uncle Aaron told me, I was in way over my head, and I didn't have the faintest idea how I'd ever get myself out.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of us were in a cab that was driving down 34th Street to the police station. I was looking out the window in total dread, wishing I could call the house and tell Mum we were okay. But Alex had my cell phone, which she'd shut off and put in her purse, and was refusing to give it back to me until after we'd finished our report to the cops. The only thing that kept me from calling the whole thing off was that between the three of us, we had plenty of money for a cab.

_We're dead, _I thought, fighting to organize my thoughts. _I can't believe I let myself get talked into this. When our parents find out what we're up to, they'll kill us, starting with me. And I don't even want to think about what'll happen when word of this gets back to the Baby-sitters Club. _Dammit, _how could I have been so stupid?_

"Hey, kid?" the driver's voice broke into my thoughts. "You going to get out now?"

I looked up to find that we'd arrived at the police station. _I can't get out now! _I thought in panic. _I need time to think this through!_

But there was no time. And I knew it. I had no choice. _We _had no choice.

Shit.

Reluctantly, I paid my share to the driver, and slid out of the cab to join Bebe and Alex on the sidewalk.

There was no going back now.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

_**T**_he three of us were sitting in front of the desk of some detective, Ortega, or something, and telling him all the things we'd been specifically ordered not to tell. Whenever one of the girls did the talking, I would either look off in one direction and wonder what was going on back at the house, or look down at my Celtic cross ring, which is what I do under pressure. I was under a whole lot of it, too. I still couldn't believe I'd let two eleven-year-old girls talk me into this, and at the same time, I was trying my hardest to convince myself that we were doing the right thing. My mind was going back and forth between those two thoughts like a tennis ball.

After we finished telling the detective everything we knew, it was no secret that whilst he was upset, he wasn't at all surprised. "Well, kids," he began, lighting a Marlboro, "you weren't too far off. It's a good thing you came to us, for two reasons: one, Doug Mahoney has been in trouble with the law before. He's been picked up for shoplifting, truancy, assault, vandalism, and pickpocketing, basically petty crimes. Two, he is, in fact, from an abusive home, or he _was_. We'd gotten several reports that his mother's live-in boyfriend had been beating or molesting him, holding his hands over the stove, you name it. It wasn't until the boy's mother worked up the courage to file charges on him that he was put in jail. But the worst part is, he got out on a technicality earlier this week, skipped town, and hasn't been seen since."

I was stunned. I just couldn't fathom what I'd heard. But what really got to me more than anything was the fact that Uncle Aaron was right about his suspicions. "So, what do we do now?" I asked.

"Well, we can file your report to us, but until we hear of this kid getting into some kind of trouble again, I hate to tell you this, but that's pretty much all we _can_ do for now," the detective answered, taking a drag on his cigarette. "And as for your home getting vandalized, since you weren't actually there when it happened, I'm afraid we can't charge him with that."

Upon hearing this, Bebe and I felt as though we'd made this trip for nothing, but Alex looked like she was seconds away from jumping up and flipping that detective's desk right on top of him. Instead, she just sat there and nodded angrily. I also noticed that she was gripping the armrests on her chair tightly enough to the point that her knuckles were turning white.

"Thank you very much," Bebe said as she and I got up. Then she pried Alex's fingers loose. Finally, after a few seconds, Alex loosened her grip, stood up, and started to follow us to the door.

That's when we heard shouting from down the hall.

"I don't give a rat's ass what they're doing in there! They knew damn well I said not to come here! I'm going to give those kids a piece of my mind!"

All three of us knew that it was Steve's voice, and we also knew we were in big trouble. And when I say big, I mean _big._

Within seconds, the door swung open, narrowly missing a passing UPS driver, and there was Steve, his face as red as a fire truck. Behind him was a scrawny little uniformed cop, desperately trying to calm him down. I hadn't seen Steve that angry since the time I accidentally dropped his favorite Yankees magnet down the garbage disposal when I was seven.

"GET YOUR TAILS OVER HERE _RIGHT _NOW!" he screamed. In that instant, all activity in that room stopped cold. Every single cop and detective in sight just stared at us. Well, mostly at Steve.

It was so bloody humiliating.

Anyway, the three of us timidly walked over to Steve, who grabbed both girls by the arms and marched them out the door and down the hall. I was right behind them, and I glanced over my shoulder at the detective we'd just spoken to, as if to say, "Just so you'll know, I had nothing to do with this."


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

_**S**_teve was really pissed, all right, and it really showed in the way he was driving home. It still amazes me to this day that as fast as he was going, he never got pulled over or into an accident, for that matter. If Jeff Gordon had been in that SUV, you can bet your college tuition that he would've been hanging on for dear life.

The three of us kids were silent, and not just because we were terrified of how fast we were going, but also because we thought that just one little word would make Steve start yelling all over again.

Finally, as soon as we arrived at the house and Steve turned off the ignition, I managed to work up enough courage to ask, "How did you know where we were?" My voice was so soft I didn't know if there was any possible way that he could've heard me.

"Well, it's a pretty interesting story, really," Steve said, in the calmest, most reserved voice I'd ever heard him use, and looking straight ahead the whole time. In the back of my mind, however, I knew that this was just the calm before the storm that we'd created. "I was online earlier today when I noticed that I ws receiving--what's the word?--a signal from somone's cell phone. Imagine my surprise when I discovered where that signal was coming from."

It was obviously from my cell phone, and when he said that, I stared at him, my eyes and mouth wide open in horror. Then, my face darkened, and I turned to Alex, who not only told me that she'd turned it off, but she also wouldn't return it until we were done at the police station.

"I swear to God I turned it off, Jason," she whispered to me. "I checked everything three times while we were in the cab, probably more than that."

"What about the tracer?" I hissed. As soon as I asked that, the look on her face said, _"Shit!"_

"But that's not all," Steve continued, still sounding perfectly sane and rational while avoiding eye contact. "As soon as I got off the Internet, who should happen to come into the house but Alissa. I could tell that she wanted to get a few things off her chest, namely your whereabouts. And you want to know something else? Oh, you'll love this part: I think the last time I'd ever heard that little girl cry that much was on the day she was born."

I had to hand it to Steve. He was doing one hell of a good job maintaining his composure, but I was well aware that inside, he was furious. And then, before anything else happened, Alex spoke up. And boy, did she ever.

"It's not Jason's fault, Uncle Steve!" she wailed. "It was all my idea! I made him do it! He kept telling me no, but I wouldn't listen to him! I just wanted to do the right thing! I'm so sorry!" Then she buried her face into the back of the driver's seat and bawled her eyes out. I thought she was going to fall apart right then and there.

You know something? Steve didn't yell at her. In fact, he didn't say a word. Instead he got out of the car, opened Alex's door, and wrapped her up in a hug. She sobbed as she clung to him and pressed her forehead against his massive shoulder.

"I know you did, Alex," he said soothingly, petting her hair. "I'm sorry for yelling at you kids. Still, what you did was very wrong, and I don't ever, _ever _want you to scare me like that again. You hear me?"

Alex nodded and gave a deep, loud sniff. Steve reached into his pocket and gave her his handkerchief, then lifted her out of the car as she wiped away her tears and blew her nose.

Bebe and I followed her out of the car, and guess who we found? Doug. He was standing next to his bike, which was parked right in front of the steps. The last time I'd seen him, he'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't like me or anyone else. This time, however, he looked as meek as a lamb.

"Hi," he said tentatively. Bebe and I greeted him with the proper courtesy, but when Alex saw him, that was the last thing she was going to be.

"Alex--" Bebe began, but Alex wouldn't have any of it. Both of her fists were slowly clenching, and I knew what that meant. She was going to break this kid's nose.

"So, have you come to finish the job?" she snarled as she walked right up into Doug's face. "If you have, I've got a brand-new pair of white low-rise jeans upstairs in my closet that are just waiting to have holes cut into them. Or better yet, you can just throw them in front of a semi!"

I'd had it up to my ears with this whole thing. I clapped my hand very hard down on Alex's shoulder. "Back off," I ordered her as I pulled her away from Doug. _"Right now."_

"No," Doug answered. He had a really guilty look on his face. "Actually, I came here to apologize." Then, looking up at Steve, he added, "I'm the one that did this to your house, and I'm sorry."

"I'll bet you are," Alex muttered furiously.

"That's enough," Steve said sternly.

"Also," Doug went on, ignoring Alex, "do you mind if we go inside? There's something I need to talk to you about."

"Sure," Steve said. "Let's go on the porch."

"Okay, whatever," Doug agreed. It was a nice change to see this kid being calm and polite, as opposed to being either distant or confrontational, like he had been.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Like I said before, a lot of you are probably not going to like what you're about to read next, and if I've made any of you feel uncomfortable in any way, I apologize.

**CHAPTER 13**

_**T**_he four of us followed Doug up on the porch, which still smelled like bleach. Oh, well. At least it no longer stunk to high heaven, like it did that night. It's a wonder we didn't have to quarantine the entire block, now that I think about it.

Anyway, Bebe, Alex, and Steve sat on the porch swing, I sat on the chair, and Doug stood facing us. He wanted to act like this wasn't such a big deal, but I could see quite clearly that his left knee was shaking like a Chihuahua at the South Pole.

"Okay," he began, swallowing hard, "first of all, I owe you guys an apology. Not just for what I did to your house, but also for the way I've been acting. And--I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Jason," I answered.

"Jason, I'm sorry I stole your Propel and threw it at you," he said. "I don't know what came over me. I guess I just have a problem with people twice my size being that close to me."

"Oh, that's okay," I told him. "I was almost done with it anyway."

"And Alex, I'm sorry for what I did to Alissa at the playground last week, and also for ruining your dolls."

"I know that," Alex answered, not as angrily as she was when she first saw him, but angry nonetheless. "There's no excuse for what you did, but I accept your apology. I also hope you'll accept mine for the way I spoke to you."

"That's all right," Doug mumbled, looking at the ground. "I would've done the same thing, if I were you."

"Also," Alex continued, "I want to know what in God's name possessed you to destroy our dolls the way you did."

Doug let out a sigh that indicated that we weren't going to like what was coming next. "I don't know," he confessed. "The truth is, I have anger issues, problems with stress, and I also have a hard time trusting people. Also, and I've never told anyone this before, but--" He stopped himself for a minute as tears came to his eyes. After brushing them away impatiently, he blurted out: "My mom's boyfriend has been molesting me."

"Oh, God, no," Steve murmured.

"You see," Doug explained, "my mom had me when she was sixteen. My dad, whoever he was, ditched her as soon as he found out she was pregnant. We stayed with my grandparents--her parents--until I was two, then we moved into a homeless shelter. Anyway, when I was five, she met this guy who worked there. He was a cook, I believe. I know he worked in the kitchen. Well, she fell for him pretty hard, and before too long, he let us move in with him.

"He was a great guy when I first knew him. He taught me how to swim, ride a bike, Rollerblade, climb ropes, and all kinds of things. I thought we'd be really good buddies. One night when I was almost six, I--I was on my way from the bathroom and saw Mom's bedroom door open a crack. When I looked in there, I saw him shooting up heroin with some other guys I'd never seen before. I didn't make any noise, but when he saw me, he ran over, backhanded me across the mouth, and told me that if I ever told anyone, he'd kill both me and Mom.

"But that's not even the worst part. Since then, every time I've made a mess in the kitchen, brought home a bad report card, or whatever, he'd either beat the crap out of me, burn me with a lighter, or make me take off all my clothes and stand in front of the window. And that was when he was sober. When he was high, he'd make me get in bed with him so he could have his way with me, or come into my room while I was asleep. I finally told one of my teachers a few weeks ago, then we told Mom, and she had him arrested. But even though he was out of there, I was still pissed at him. And since he wasn't there for me to take my problems out on, that's what made me do all the things I did."

We all stared at him, shocked and horrified. Although we'd all suspected that he was having problems at home, none of us imagined that it was anywhere near this serious. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bebe, hunched over and crying quietly, then she got up and ran into the house. Alex wasn't crying yet, but she sure looked ready to.

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I know exactly how you must be feeling right now."

Now, it was Doug's turn to be angry. "How could you possibly understand?" he demanded, his voice breaking and his entire body trembling. I stood up and went over to put my hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away from me like he'd touched a hot pan.

There was an awkward silence before Alex got the ball rolling again.

"Doug, look at me," she said firmly. "I'm going to say something to you, and I want you to listen to me. I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but this is the real, whole truth. I feel for you so much, because I've been there. Okay? When I was seven, I was molested by my swim coach. It was after class one day, and I was in the locker room, changing my clothes. The next thing I knew, he was right behind me, and his hands were all over me. Even now, I shudder to think what else he would've done if one of the lifeguards hadn't come in there and stopped him, and I don't even swim at the Y anymore, because of him. They fired him, of course, but after that, he got on the first plane out of LaGuardia, and no one knows where he is to this day. So, believe it or not, I know where you're coming from, all right?"

As soon as Alex finished talking, Doug instantaneously burst into tears. They were gushing from his eyes and down his face, which was now bright red, and his knees gave out, sending him wilting to the ground.

Alex was by his side in a second. She put her hand on his, and he threw his arms around her and buried his face into her shoulder. When I saw that, my mind flashed back to the day that Mum announced that we were moving to America. I was devastated, because that meant we'd be leaving Granny behind. But the way I was crying on that day was nothing compared to how upset Doug was.

"I'm so sorry, Doug," Alex whispered. She was crying, too. "It's gonna be all right now." I walked over, knelt behind them, and put my arms around both of them. This time, Doug let me touch him. He even laid his head on my shoulder.

In that moment, as I held both kids and let them sob, I knew Doug had a lot bottled up inside him, but he was, in no way, a bad kid, and this proved it. Right now, my only concern was how to help him, if we could.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

_**"W**_ell," Doug said after he finally pulled himself together, "you might as well take me down to the police station so I can tell them what I did."

As soon as he said that, Alex got a guilty, but concerned, look on her face. "Um, actually--" she began.

"It's all right, Alex," Doug calmly interrupted. "I mean, I assumed you'd already told the cops, but I want them to hear it from me. And with all the stuff I've done, those guys know me pretty well by now."

"Listen, Doug," Steve said, his voice filled with concern, "this is probably not my place to tell you what you should do, but if I were you, I'd definitely think long and hard about this. If you tell the cops, you could get in a whole lot of trouble. And besides, have you even thought about how your mom's going to take this?"

"She knows," Doug answered. "As a matter of fact, sometime before you guys came home that night, she caught me when I was coming out of your backyard. And believe me, I've never seen her get that upset in my life. So, for the rest of the summer, or until the damage to your house is paid off, whichever comes first, I'm doing odd jobs for the neighbors, and spending every other weekend doing volunteer work at the day center where she works."

"But why risk getting into even more trouble than you're already in?" I asked, just as concerned as Steve. On the one hand, Doug was taking full responsibilty for his actions, which was obviously expected of him, but by going to the police and confessing, he could be facing juvenile hall. Personally, I didn't think it was worth it.

"I'm tired of running," he sighed. "Lately, whenever I've had a problem, or if I've done something wrong, all I've ever done is run away from it instead of owning it. And as for how Mom's going to take it," he added, turning to Steve, "I think she'd be more upset if I _didn't _turn myself in. Know what I mean?"

I sure as hell did. What Doug said made perfect sense, and it changed my opinion about his situation completely. He knew that what he did was wrong, that the abuse he'd endured was no excuse, and that he had to be accountable. In that moment, I felt really proud of him.

"I see," Steve said. "Well, can I give you a ride?"

"Sure," Doug answered. He followed Steve down the steps, grabbed his bike, and put it in the back of the SUV. I watched, with a mixture of pride and apprehension, as they drove away, and wondered what was yet to come.

Later that evening, over Chinese take-out, we were all in the living room, watching Steve's _Young Frankenstein _DVD. It was just the thing I needed to keep my mind off the day's events. Try as I might, the one thing I couldn't stop thinking about was what Doug must have been through, and what he was going through now. There was no question that he was on his way to juvenile hall, and even though I knew it was for the best, my heart just ached for him.

"Are you all right, Jason?" Mum asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I answered, but I didn't believe that for two seconds. To tell you the truth, I was in pieces. All I could think about was that poor kid being locked in some tiny, cramped cell with nothing to look at but its bare, spotlessly white walls, and nothing to do to pass the time, not to mention how scared he was of being away from his mother.

"Jason, listen to me," Mum said gently, turning my face toward hers. "I realize you're having a hard time dealing with this, but the bottom line is, thanks to you, thanks to Jason, that boy is getting the help he needs. I promise you that Doug is going to be all right now."

I was still feeling bad for Doug, but after hearing Mum had to say, I felt a little better. "Thanks, Mum," I said, and she gave me a hug.

"Any time, love," she whispered.

That's when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," I said, getting up from the couch just as Madeline Kahn's character was singing "Sweet Mystery of Life" in an operatic fashion. It kind of bummed me out a little that I had to miss that part, which was my favorite, but when someone's at the door, what can you do?

Anyway, when I answered the door, I saw a young woman, probably in her mid to late 20s, and a head shorter than me, standing on the doorstep. She had flaming red hair, almost a full shade darker than Mum's, blue eyes, and fair skin, and she was wearing a Jets jersey, tan shorts, and sandals. Her demeanor was very nervous, even more so than Doug when we found him standing out in front of the house that afternoon.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"I'm Olivia Mahoney," she answered. Like Doug, she had a heavy Bronx accent. "I'm Doug's mother."

"Oh, yes," I said. "Would you like to come in?"

"Thanks, but I'd better not," she said softly. "Actually, I was just on my way to the juvenile center to drop off some of Doug's things. But if you're wondering why I'm here, I wanted to apologize for my son's behavior. He's been through so much in his life, and I wish I knew what that sick son of a bitch was doing to him. Boy, if I ever see him again, I'm going to break his legs."

"He's safe now," I reassured her. Yes, I know she's probably heard it a million times, but what was I supposed to say?

"I know," she sighed. I think I also saw a tear slide down her face. She brushed it away before continuing, "And before I go, I just wanted to say thank you for understanding, and for being there for him."

"No problem," I said. With that, she turned around and headed down the steps. The last thing I saw before closing the door was her gray '79 Camaro driving away.

I'll tell you, I didn't know how I was supposed to feel after something like that. But in a way, I was glad that she'd stopped by, because I think I got to know a little more about Doug than I had before. Plus, I was starting to become convinced that he was a good kid, and that he would survive.

I made my way back to the couch a few minutes later, sat down, and noticed that the movie was paused. "We didn't want you to miss your favorite part, Jason," Alissa smiled as she climbed up on my lap.

"Thanks, kiddo," I grinned as I tickled her bare foot. She squealed with laughter.

Whilst Uncle Aaron pressed the play button on the DVD remote, I picked up a fortune cookie from the table beside me, and, amidst Ms. Kahn's singing, opened it up. And here's what my fortune said: _"You will make a difference in someone's life."_

I'd made a difference, all right, and I sincerely hoped that everything would work out, somehow.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: In the letter that Jason gets from the BSC members, you'll notice that Claudia doesn't make any spelling errors. That's because repeating seventh grade has also helped her improve her spelling. Way to go, Claud:)

**CHAPTER 15**

_**A **_week later, our vacation was over. Steve and I were taking our suitcases out to the SUV. We also knew that this was a vacation we were going to remember for a very long time. (I know, I've seen _Rocky Horror_ too many times.)

"I sure hope Doug's all right," I commented, handing Steve my duffel bag. After he loaded it into the back, I remembered that I'd forgotten my iPod. "Hey, Steve, have you seen my iPod?"

"You probably left it back in the house," he answered. "But before you get it, I want to talk to you about something."

"Sure, go ahead," I said, closing the trunk.

"Well, first of all, I'm sure Doug's going to be fine," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "He's in a place where he can't hurt himself or others, or get into more trouble than he's already gotten into. And like your mom said, he's getting the help he needs. Also, I'vew ben thinking about what Uncle Aaron and I told you about getting involved."

"You have?"

"Yeah. It's a good thing you disobeyed us like that, because if you'd listened, who knows what kind of trouble Doug would've been in. Well, I never thought I'd hear myself say this, Jason, but you did the right thing."

"Thanks," I said. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. "I ought to disobey you more often!"

"Don't push your luck, boy," Steve warned, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't help but laugh.

Just then, the three girls came bounding down the steps, and Bebe and Alex each had something in their hands.

"Here's your iPod," Bebe said as she handed it to me. "You left it on the sunporch."

"Thanks," I said, then I checked to make sure it was on my favorite song. Sure enough, "Head Games" by Foreigner was highlighted.

_"Head games; it's you an' me, baby; head games," _I sang as I put my iPod in the left passenger seat. Then I saw Alex. "Oh. What have you got for me?"

"You got a letter, Jason," she answered, handing it to me. When I looked at the back of the envelope, I saw that it was from the juvenile hall where Doug was staying. I also saw that it had Aunt Amy and Uncle Aaron's address on it, but like Alex said, it was for me.

"I'd open it when you get on the highway, if I were you," Alissa suggested. "That' so you can read it for yourself, and it's also what Daddy does when he's on a business trip."

"Thanks," I said warmly, giving both of my cousins a hug.

"Well, time to hit the road," Steve said as Mum, Aunt Amy, and Uncle Aaron came out of the house. After a seemingly endless round of hugs and good-byes, we were off.

I don't know why, but I waited until I got home to read the letter. And when we got home, I found that I'd gotten another letter. This one was from Sydney, which is where the other BSC members were.

I went to my room, flopped down on my bed, and opened both letters. Here's what the one from Sydney said:

_Dear Jason,_

_(KRISTY) Okay, all together now: HAVING A GOOD TIME, WISH YOU WERE HERE. Don't you just love cliches?_

_But seriously, though, Australia _rocks! _In fact, we were fortunate enough to meet our Australian counterpart. They're called Baby-sitters, Inc., and God, you'd be amazed at how much like us they are! They operate pretty much the same way we do, right down to the Kid-Kits, only they call theirs "Fun-Boxes"._

_(MARY ANNE) Not only do they have their own phone and phone number, but they also meet in an old garden house that belongs to the parents of one of the members. I wish _we _could've thought of that! (The reason being that after we go on to college, we can't very well meet in Claud's room anymore, right?)_

_(MAL) And wait till you hear this, Jason: the president of Baby-sitters, Inc., is Kelly Hobart, who just happens to be one of the Hobarts' cousins! Isn't that ironic?_

_(ABBY) It's like rai-yai-ai-i-in on your wedding day..._

_(CLAUD) Okay, Alanis._

_(EVERYBODY) Aaanywaaay..._

_(JESSI) They meet the same days as we do, and at the exact same times, 5:30 to 6:00. By the way, don't tell Stacey I said this, but they're not exactly tickled pink about dues, either. Oh, well. That's life, I guess. The only difference is, their dues day is on Wednesday, instead of Monday. I guess that's their way of preparing themselves for the inevitable._

_(STACEY) In the famous words of Eliza Doolittle, "HA! HA! HA! HA!" And if any of you even _think _about saying, "Well, go on!", don't be surprised if you wake up with shampoo in your ears!_

_Oh, before I forget. We got an e-mail from Dawn today. She says hi, and her dad, stepmom, and Jeff LOVE the __Carnival__ video. Dawn's stepmom particularly loved how the two of you played off each other, and wanted us to tell you that you did a great job. Oh, and Jeff's favorite part is where Sam yanks off my underwear. What a perv!_

_(KRISTY) Last, but not least, and I probably shouldn't bring this up, but we think David Michael's in love. One of the Baby-sitters, Inc., members has a sister named Toni, and she's around his age. Believe me, those two are inseparable! She especially loved it when he did the "'Aaay, Rosalie!" bit. They look so cute together!_

_Well, we're getting ready to go to a concert at the Opera House, so I'd better go. Claud says hi, and she loves you big-time._

_(CLAUD) Kristy, that's private! But seriously, though, Jason, I love you, miss you like crazy, and I can't wait to see you again. XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO_

_(ABBY) Okay, Claud? Why don't you two get a room?_

_Sincerely yours,_

_The Baby-sitters Club_

Enclosed in the letter was a picture of them in front of Aussie Stadium, which was where the 2000 Summer Olympics were held. After I hung the picture up on the closet door and put the letter in my desk, I opened Doug's letter. Here's what he had to say:

_Dear Jason,_

_I just wanted to thank you so much for helping me. Being in juvie is such a 24-hour pain in the ass, but in a way, I'm kind of glad to be here. If part of getting help means having some musclehead drill sergeant screaming at me less than an inch away from my face, I guess it's worth it. In fact, I've got two words for that guy: Breath Assure._

_Oh, on a more serious note. I've been getting counseling twice a day: in the mornings, I have it by myself, and in the afternoons, I have group therapy. It was a little scary at first, being around kids who have problems like me. Some had it even worse than I did, if you can believe that, and that just shocked the holy hell out of me. I'm learning how to trust people, and I've also learned so much about limits, discipline, and self-control. Most of all, I feel so much better, knowing that I'm not alone. Boy, whoever invented the phrase "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger" sure knew what he was talking about!_

_Well, it's almost time for bed. Tell your cousins I'm sorry, and as soon as I get out (hopefully by Christmas), I'm buying some new Bratz dolls for them with the money I saved up from doing odd jobs._

_Your true friend,_

_Doug_

_P.S. Remember when Alex told me about what happened to her when she was little? Well, I was watching the news in the rec room the other day (that's all we're allowed to watch here), and I found out that they nailed the guy somewhere in Florida. He's on his way back to New York for the trial. It turns out he's done this to a lot of other kids, only they kept it a secret. Tell Alex for me, okay? I'm sure she'd love to know that they caught him._

After I'd looked at both letters, I felt pretty damn good. I also wondered what would happen if I saw Doug again, and if he ever met the BSC. If they knew what he'd been through, and that he was going to be all right, there's no doubt in my mind that they'd treat him with the kindness he deserved.

I also said a little prayer for Alex. Now, for both her and Doug, the healing could finally begin.

**THE END**


End file.
